Wilbur S. Peacock

“ Curt Varga sighed then, and the ache in his heart was a tangible thing that hurt with an agony he had not thought possible for a man to feel.
"Remember the things I told you, Jean? Remember the hopes and dreams and plans I had?"
"I remember."
"Then, Jean, this is the truth. Remember this all of your life; fight for it, never let it die. Men are born to be free; no man can place himself in the role of God, there to dictate what—"
The blow of the gun barrel smashed him to his knees. He knelt there for seconds, laughing into Jason Vandor's face.
"I'm a small man, Vandor," the Falcon said. ”

“ Pipes as thick as a man's arm, bank upon bank, were braced in rows through the center of the immense room, and thousands of clear bubbles of water clung to them. The light of gravitic-stasis bulbs glowed deep in each bubble, and the surfaces of all were threaded with the tender shoots of growing seedling plants.
"How utterly incredibly marvelous!" Jean whispered.
The Falcon nodded proudly. "Ten thousand tons of food go out of this cavern every day, taken to the starving people of a dozen worlds. It is not a one man job; it is a tremendous task for hundreds of thousands of men and women." ”

“ He shot the approaching guard squarely through the throat, the gun singing its piercing note of death, the instant cry of the guard disappearing with his throat. Then the Falcon hurdled the body, raced along the catwalk.
"Benton," he yelled, "this is it."
A guard shouted in brief anger, his ray searing a burning streak of agony along Curt's side. Then the Falcon whirled, dropped to one knee on the metal flooring, and his gun sang a song of death that didn't cease. ”

“ He turned a bit, gasped, when he saw that the paralysis beam had been turned off, and that the Martian's antennae was wrapped tightly about the agent's wrist. Then the agent whirled, and his shrill whistle ripped the music to scattered shreds.
"Get that man!" he bellowed. "He's the Falcon!"
Curt Varga went whirling to one side, and the dis-gun leaped into his fingers. A needle-ray brushed at his back, and he scythed the agent down with a withering blast from the dis-gun. Smoke surged from a naming drapery, where a ray slashed, and then the curtain flaked into nothingness. ”

“ Almost instantly he found the tiny cruiser boring toward the outside of the clot of space debris.
His hands darted to two levers on the board, drew them back. Tractor rays leaped into sudden life, spun in pursuit of the fleeing cruiser. Secondary rays fended off the rubbish that tended to be sucked into the tractor beams.
Then the tractors caught the cruiser, caught and held it immovable. It swung about, almost stopping its direct flight. It bucked and plunged like a fish on a line, rockets flaring with incredible power to break the hold. But Curt's hands never gave it a chance. ”

“ But I am true to myself, if nothing else. Get somebody else to do your lying."
Jason Vandor's face was a chiseled mask of evil rage. He saw then the crumbling of the life he had built, saw then the truth that lay in the Falcon. He knew then that all of the treasures and powers of a hundred worlds could not replace that which he had lost in those fleeting seconds.
He lifted his gun to shoot the defenseless Falcon to death—and died that way, a dis-ray scything him down in a huddled heap.
"By damn, a fight at last!" a great voice roared from the doorway, and Schutler sprang into the room. ”

“ His eyes focused slowly, made out the glow cast through the open manhole. Only a moment could have passed, for he still heard the excited calling of his pursuers, and felt the vibrations of men climbing the outside of the pipe.
He went at a staggering run down the pipe, guiding himself by the beam of the radi-light torch he fumbled from his belt. Echoes drummed along the metal tube from his running feet, and the dull pounding in his head raced with the sound. He whirled around a bend in the pipe, stopped, braced himself momentarily on the curved wall. ”

“ Cat men from the tombs of Mars played Martian chess with their traditional enemies, the big-chested Upland boiloongs whose tentacles were like living ropes of steel. Creatures from a dozen worlds watched or played or rested, singly and in groups, about the gargantuan room.
"They're my men," The Falcon said proudly, feelingly. "And regardless of body-form, each is a man. They're the Falcon's Brood." ”

“ He raced to the side of his men, cutting a guard from his side, raying a second even as he was lining his gun on Jericho. The Negro grinned, and his swinging sword fled through the neck of a guard, followed about and dropped a hand from the wrist of a screaming second.
Schutler went down, his beard flaming where a bolt had grazed his chin. He roared like an angry bull, pawed at the flame and smoke of his burning beard, swept his other hand as a man sprays water. Guards dropped like flies beneath a poison spray.
A shot caught Crandal in one leg, dropped him to his knee. ”

“ He spun about, seeking a manhole opening, saw none. He did not know where he was, for there were no identifying marks in the tube. He thought swiftly, but his thoughts seemed to move with a treacly slowness. Then he lifted his gun, flicked it to full force, blasted a hole through the side of the conduit.
Metal flowed in a crimson stream, grew turgid, hardened with the queerness of the native iron. Great blisters reared on the Falcon's hands as he clawed his way from the tube. He fell to the ground outside, blinked, tried to find his directions by some distinctive landmark. ”

“ Jean admitted slowly. "But it's also so incredibly foolish. A few hundred thousand, or even millions, cannot change the world we live in. It is far better to take things as they are." She shuddered involuntarily, as a snake-man glided effortlessly across the path. "After all, creatures like that shouldn't be permitted to live like Earthmen."
The Falcon shrugged, some of the good feeling going from his mind. ”

“ An IP man died in a blast of searing energy that sought him out behind a pillar, surging through the wood, and then withering him into a charred and blackened mass. Another agent turned to run, and the bolt of Curt's dis-gun skewered his back, pinned him to a wall for a fleeting second, then dropped him in a silent heap.
Curt whirled, darted toward the rear door. His gun menaced the entire room, and he was a shifting fading figure as he fled from that room of death. His eyes were blurred with tears, and his throat was constricted with grief. ”

“ He flicked on the tractor rays again, sent them spiralling to one side. They touched a fifty-foot meteor, caught it, spun it into the path of the hurtling death-ship.
Duke Ringo tried to swerve the cruiser, failed, for the ship and meteor struck in a titanic slanting blow. White heat flared for a soundless moment, force waves pushing outward in the burst of energy. Then the ship and meteor were one, and in their place was only a fused lump of metallic refuse that spun endlessly in the Sargasso of Space.
The Falcon cut all switches, turned slowly about on his seat. ”

“ The cruiser swung more and more toward the great boulder, descending swiftly. There was no sound, only the steady dragging of gravity on the ship from the pale beam. Absently, the Falcon cleared the board before him, cutting all switches.
And then a giant hole flowed open in the top of the huge boulder, and the pirate ship was whisked into a slanting radi-lighted tunnel.
"Hollow!" Jean said. "So this is the Pirate's Base!" She frowned. "But if it is hollow, why doesn't gravitic stress rip it to pieces?" ”

“ The inertia gate closed behind the ship, and the entrance hole flowed open. Ahead was the empty blackness of space. The next instant, the planetoid was far behind, and speed was piling at a terrific rate. Curt was grateful then to the man who had invented the stasis force-screen, for at the initial acceleration he had achieved, he should have been dead. But with all atoms of the ship and its contents building speed at the same rate, he felt no discomfort.
He bent toward the vision-port, scanned the Void with slitted eyes. Stars gleamed with a cold brightness far away. ”

“ One went down from the Falcon's ray; another lined his gun with a deliberate slowness.
A thrown spanner-wrench crushed in the side of his head, and Benton raced up the catwalk's steps. He waved two more wrenches at the Falcon.
"Let's go, Varga," he shouted.
The Falcon rayed the last two guards to death with a single sweeping shot that cut them down as though before a scythe. Then he was running toward the exit.
"Stay here and organize the men," he yelled back. "Follow as quickly as possible, and mop up the smugglers still alive." ”

“ And then the cruiser was hurtling toward the clot, sucked there by the tractor beam, moved with an incredible titanic force such as was only possible from a mighty generator. Curt swerved his gaze to the freighter, saw that it, too, was trapped.
He thought then of the words that his brother had spoken to him on Mars before, of the information that had come through about the base of the drug-smuggling ring being in the Sargasso. He cursed the utter blind stupidity that had made him discount the words even as they were spoken. ”

“ The inhabitated worlds were slowly becoming convinced that the Falcon and his men were distributing the drug; and such was the horror and agony the drug inflicted on its users, the peoples of the worlds had forgotten the good done by the Falcon's men, and were giving information to the IP as to the movements of the Food Smugglers.
It had become a war of survival for the Falcon; he had to stamp out the smothalene smugglers so as to protect himself, his great plan, and the lives of those who had entrusted their futures to his capable hands. ”

“ He sobbed deep in his throat, knowing the blow could not miss. He tensed the muscles of his neck, rolled his head. And the boot smashed just below his right ear.
He felt the coolness of the metal flooring on his face, but there was only a grey blankness before his eyes. He tried to force his body to his feet, but there was no strength in his arms.
"Take him below," he heard Duke Ringo say. "Stick him at a drier. And because he likes to play tough, we'll see just how tough he is. Make him work without a mask."
The Falcon called out, but his voice was only a whisper in his mind. ”

“ But the pressing problem of the moment was not the smothalene smugglers, but rather the saving of himself from the IP men who were advancing so grimly on his table.
The Falcon shifted his glance indolently about the room, giving only an uninterested cursory scrutiny to the agents, then relaxed, his cigarette canted debonairly between his lips. He glanced about in faked surprise, when one of the agents seated himself at the table.
"What the hell do you want?" he asked pleasantly. "There are plenty of empty tables; when I want company, I'll send out invitations!" ”

“ Curt Varga shook his head. "Sorry," he said softly, "I've got other plans."
Benton smiled derisively. "Yeah? Well, a couple of others thought they had, too. They got a converter burial in the energy room."
The Falcon swayed a bit, felt drunkenness creeping into his mind again. He found and swallowed the last of his energy tablets.
"Look," he said, "I need the help of everybody in here. I've got a plan that might work—but this smothalene is burning me so I can't really think. Collect all the energy tablets the men can spare for me; I'll use them to stay sober until I bust the place wide open." ”

“ The Falcon snarled a curse. "She's a telepath," he said. "She read your mind." He whirled to a window, peered at the rocket runway that led into the escape tube. "One ship is gone," he finished harshly. "Without a tractor to bring her back, she'll take the news straight to her father. We can't fight the IP with half-gunned ships. I'll have to run her down."
"Your ship's been refueled and is ready to go. New radi-batteries are in the tractor gear." The comptroller roused himself with an effort.
"You sure you're all right?" Curt asked anxiously. ”

“ He shrugged. "Take Jean to the women's quarters, Schutler," he finished unemotionally. "Later, she and I will dine together." He made an almost imperceptible gesture with one hand, and the giant's eyes widened in surprise.
"Sure, Curt," Schutler agreed. "We'll walk part-way with you."
"I don't think—" Jean began, then fell silent.
The Falcon grinned. "Everything's under control," he said reassuringly. "There are plenty of Earth women there. They'll fix you up with clothes or whatever you need."
"Thank you, Falcon," Jean said, but fear was flickering again in her blue-green eyes. ”

“ He flipped the gun free, whirled, menaced the remaining men with its flaring muzzle.
"Back," he snarled, "or I'll cut you down." He nodded at Jean. "Get behind me," he finished savagely. "This is our only chance to get free." He was the Falcon then, deadly, dangerous, a light burning in his eyes.
Jean moved hesitantly toward Curt, edged around him. The smugglers said nothing, apparently waiting for the slightest opening in Curt's offensive. Duke Ringo straightened, his face puffed, air whistling into his bruised throat.
"You'll never make it," Ringo said harshly. "Put down that gun." ”

“ The cruiser whipped through the night, inertia momentarily pinning its passengers to their seats. A beam lanced out from the spaceport, instantly winked off. The Falcon's hands made lightning adjustments on the board, and the ship scooted back toward the ground, fled, barely a hundred feet above the rusty sand.
The vizi-screen was dull now, reflecting the interior of the port office—and the Port Authority's voice sang through the speaker.
"Five IP ships take off. Catch that pleasure cruiser. Use tractors to bring it down; it isn't armed. Watch out for the man aboard—he's the Falcon." ”

“ The vizi-screen went momentarily black, then the scanner ray cut back in. Duke Ringo's ship had ceased its futile efforts to escape; now it was turning, the needle prow centered directly on the smuggling headquarters. In that one flashing second, the Falcon felt a surge of admiration for the brutal bravery of the man. ”